Hello boys and girls who are over 18. Today I will tell you a sad story that made me a slave to my desires …
The distant 1992. Provincial strip-bar in Russia. I, as a young and hot male, enjoyed the dances of dissolute girls and was given fun in the company of the "green snake". I was a regular here, a handsome bachelor who loved boring leisure, if you know what I mean.
But that night, everything changed. She entered the bar, a mysterious brunette with a keen eye and a pentagram tattooed on her shoulder. I noticed her immediately, mentally ranking the stranger as Satanists or representatives of the Gothic subculture. But there was something daring and at the same time alluring about her. I realized that today I only want her.
I had enough experience in dealing with women, but I had no idea how to approach her. My thoughts got lost, my pulse quickened and I was terribly nervous. I don’t remember anything like that since my first date at 16. I felt like a prey, not a predator.
Imagine my surprise when she sat down at my table and playfully asked: "Are you expecting me?" I hardly remember how it all happened, but after half an hour we were already in the same bed in a local hotel. It was the best night of my life, saturated with hot passion, primordial savagery and demonic temptation.
When I woke up in the morning, she was gone. Only on the table was a napkin with some scribbles. I thought she left the phone number, but I was wrong. It read: "The hunter becomes a victim."
I visited that bar many times in the hope of seeing her at least once, but all my attempts were in vain. Anxious thoughts about the girl with the pentagram drove away the already bad sleep. My life began to resemble hell.
Sex has ceased to bring me pleasure: neither lecherous prostitutes, nor elite prostitutes are able to give me what it was that night. I still remember her image and continue to look for him with my eyes in a crowd of unfamiliar faces. Suddenly for myself, I realized that I fell in love with her and other girls are not interesting to me.
Promotional video:
When I told everything to my best friend, obsessed with mysticism, he explained to me that this was not an obsession, but the curse of a succubus, which that girl was. He said that demons tearing flesh with their claws are prehistoric relics, because there are so many other ways to cause suffering … So I became a prisoner of my ideals, a dream that I could touch. Be careful what you want …